


Art

by inicorn



Series: Reader’s League Adventures [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Art, Blood, F/M, HAPPY VALENTINES PSYCHOS, Love?, M/M, Murdering, idk - Freeform, what do you know about love, you kill for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29423499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inicorn/pseuds/inicorn
Summary: The only reason you didn't kill each other is the fact you both agree the world needs more art.//you two are psychopaths //valentines special
Relationships: Khada Jhin/Reader
Series: Reader’s League Adventures [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202435
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Art

You always liked art. Since your early age in the Ionian orphanage you always crafted something. You weren’t necessarily cruel by nature but you loved to see blood. First it were animals. Your first slit throat was a rat. It didn't suffer. It became art in an instant and you loved to explore its insides, you found it beautiful.

Rats, snakes, rabbits, goats, a wolf. They all became art by your hand and you felt ecstatic every time you finished. Blood stains everywhere, bones, meat, organs composed into something straight out of this world.

You called it artistry, death was beautiful and you were the creator of beauty.

When you, in your teens, turned your roommate into art, you had to run away from the village.

It's been years since you left that forgotten place and started to turn the world into art. You did it with style and grace, hiding your face under a mask while making beauty. It was lonely life, but you didn't feel like there is a better way to live. What you were doing was glorious, marvelous and well needed.

Also under-appreciated though. People never understood you. You didn't understand them either, what could be more beautiful than a slaughter of a whole household? Men, women, children. They all became something eternal. Art. That is all that matters and you were dedicated to it. You studied all kinds of weapons, chemicals and body anatomy. People were the most fun, their horrified emotions seconds before their death were like ecstasy for your ears and eyes.

You weren't focused on their torturing, but in process of making them art. If that included pain, you couldn't do anything about it.

First time you heard his name was when you were buying equipment for your tools. You traveled long way and it was a while since you performed your show. You heard people talking about Golden Demon and his ways of expressing himself. You didn't give it much attention, excited for your next act.

As you traveled this countryside of Ionia, you heard about him more and more often. It was starting to get on your nerves and you started shooting people in their heads the second they said Golden. It wasn’t much of a low profile as you planned to maintain, but when you paint, ink stains might appear.

The first time you actually meet him is when you are bowing to the beautiful corpses you arranged according your artistic eye. You had a liking in theatricality even though no one was watching. When you hard someone saying “interesting” behind your back, you turned around in a blink of an eye, pointing your gun at him. His reactions were fast as you both shot at the same time, the bullets colliding in the air. You couldn't see his face but neither could he see yours.

The fight was show itself, bullets, blades, triggered traps, laughter and snickering.

“You are ruining my art!” You shout frustrated as he missed the shot and made one corpse's head explode.

He chuckles which makes you annoyed. This was your show and he was barging in like a redneck not knowing his place. So why do you have such difficulties to finish him?

Last drop is when he manages to crack your mask. You both stand there, out of ammunition, breath and ideas, hearing the shouting of large group of people getting closer and closer, probably police.

“We are not done here.” You disappear, holding the remaining pieces of your mask on your face.

You learned his name the fifth time you encountered him. It became game by this time, both of you now knowing your ways, you could appreciate another artist. You started to leave little presents for each other in forms of art, newspaper headlines and terror in Ionia that became canvas for the duo everyone told stories about.

You lay on the wooden floor stained with blood holding your gun pointing at his neck as he pins your wounded shoulder down, his own gun pointing on your kidneys.

“Is this it?” You ask, heavily trying to catch breath. The smirk on your lips under the mask could be heard.

“I’d hate to perform unnecessary.” He says, reaching for your mask.

You might choke a bit on your own blood in your mouth, but when he reveals your flustered face, he freezes. You just wait for him to pierce your body with those golden bullets of his, but nothing like that happens.

“Khada Jhin.” He says.

You widen your eyes. The hand threatening his jugular veins with fire eases and moves to uncover his own face.

His eyes are dark, scar across the side of his face is old. His dark brown hair are all styled to the back. His smile widens.

You reveal your name.

_Golden Demon strikes with an even bigger force_

_Demons multiply?_

_Mutilated bodies found in two different places, time of death is the same_

_Coordinated murder?_

_Will it ever stop?_

_—_

Valentine’s special

He planned this for a long time. Everything had to be perfect. You were someone really special to him and he was all about impressing you. You shared his interests, were a great artist and performed great shows. The world needed more art and after the years, he finally found someone worthy not turning into aesthetic abstraction.

You also made him found out art could be expressed in another way than he was going with the whole time. In a form of pleasure and mutual lust.

Lust for art, perfection, for each other.

After gathering all information you needed for the next planned execution, you came back to the place you were currently staying at with Jhin. It’s late night. You walk in and immediately notice the flowers. They are beautiful, fully blossomed exactly in the phase you like the most. Then you hear the piano.

When you walk into the room, you gasp. More of the flowers are all around the place, human hearts among them. The blood is fresh and you noticed the thread sized veins compounded into the pastel pink petals. It’s cleanly presented in beautiful composition of soft nature and beauty of the death. Glowing substance stains the bottoms of the flowers, making the view intimate and kind of romantic, if you know what that word means.

He plays beautifully, you always love the melody his fingers produce. You listen to this bliss as you take off the scarf off your face and hood off your head. He doesn't have his mask which is unusual.

You walk over to him and gently take one flower stained in blood into your palm from the piano.

No words are needed. He finishes the symphony played on for you. His gaze never leaving yours, he walks over to you and places one hand on the back of your neck, second on your waist.

“Happy Valentine’s, precious.”

You feel his breath on your lips.

“Since when do we celebrate that.” You whisper, smiling.

“Since you tarnished me with sentiment.”

The night is long, soft and rough, experimental and confident, full of answered questions and discovery. Intimacy with which you approached each other was immeasurable, sealing the bound that can not be broken. Whole new world was opened, the world full of different side of art you both didn't know before.

Maybe later you will end up in hell for eternity, but at least you have your demon with you.


End file.
